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Rated: E · Poetry · Family · #1939794
A mother's love is exemplary. Roses here are symbols for children.
How can I relieve you of your burden,

If in the beginning you chose this dirty garden?

Why choose to nurture the seeds of tomorrow,

If all you see are flowers of sorrow?



Every sweat of yours that drops on land,

Every time you guide the vine with your bare hands,

The scratches and scars you endured,

Means nothing whenever you see the fruits of the future.



For series of nights and days,

You waited for this one special case.

With all joy, you planted five seeds of rose.

Hoping, to see all of them fully grow.



The first few weeks were problem free.

Until, one started to wither slowly.

Yet, the rest were blooming perfectly,

Following what was planned, eventually.



The tears you shed,

The prayers, in front of it, you said,

Gave the bud the opportunity,

To be like the others, blooming perfectly.



If only the maturity of the lost

Can vanquish what pains you most.

But, alas! It can only rectify the wrong,

But can never change the past that has gone along.
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